vote was taken at Cambridge to see if the women who have already
a private college nearby, should be admitted to the university.
They were triumphantly shut out; and as a fit and proper sign of
enthusiasm the undergraduates went over in a body and knocked down
the gates of the women's college. I know that it is a terrible
thing to say that any one approved of this. All the London papers
came out with headings that read,--ARE OUR UNDERGRADUATES TURNING
INTO BABOONS? and so on. The Manchester Guardian draped its pages
in black and even the London Morning Post was afraid to take bold
ground in the matter. But I do know also that there was a great
deal of secret chuckling and jubilation in the London clubs. Nothing
was expressed openly. The men of England have been too terrorised
by the women for that.

But in safe corners of the club, out of earshot of the waiters and
away from casual strangers, little groups of elderly men chuckled
quietly together. "Knocked down their gates, eh?" said the wicked
old men to one another, and then whispered guiltily behind an
uplifted hand, "Serve 'em right." Nobody dared to say anything
outside. If they had some one would have got up and asked a question
in the House of Commons. When this is done all England falls flat
upon its face.

But for my part when I heard of the Cambridge vote, I felt as Lord
Chatham did when he said in parliament, "Sir, I rejoice that America
has resisted." For I have long harboured views of my own upon the
higher education of women. In these days, however, it requires no
little hardihood to utter a single word of criticism against it.
It is like throwing half a brick through the glass roof of a
conservatory. It is bound to make trouble. Let me hasten, therefore,